


The Andersons

by deepfriedshortpeople (SerendipitousSong)



Series: The Andersons [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Explicit Language, Hank fucks with his wife all the TIME, Implied Sexual Content, Inappropriate Humor, Intended to be crack but took an emotional turn, MARITAL BLISS, Multi, Post Peaceful-Good Ending, She retaliates by fucking him, Slice of Life, Swearing, except not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 18:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15030527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerendipitousSong/pseuds/deepfriedshortpeople
Summary: Connor has been living in Grand Rapids for a year now, but he hasn't called in two months and hasn't been home since Christmas. Why is that?As told by Hank, certified grouchy storyteller and wielder of the English language.CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT YEET





	The Andersons

**Author's Note:**

> I turned off my inhibitions and popped this out in a day. Enjoy Jawline and Fuckingpassword being a family

“At least  _ my _ wife doesn't blue ball me every time I do something to piss her off!”

“It's a good thing then, Lieutenant. Otherwise you'd  _ never _ get any!”

The whole office started laughing at that. Hank had to admit he'd walked right into that one. However, he refused to back down without a fight.

“You'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you Detective?”

He could  _ feel _ the life draining from Reed’s soul at the cacophony of  _ oooohs _ from surrounding officers. Hell, even Jeffrey was coughing down a bark of laughter.

“Eh fuck off Anderson.  _ Fuck. Off. _ ”

“I will,” Hank retorted. He must've been grinning like a damn fool but  _ God _ it felt nice to have some leverage on that asshole. “I will.”

  
  
  
  


“...Travis, that's not how you set it up.”

“Bet.”

“Ah Jesus, enough with that stupid ‘bet' crap. Have you tried oh I don't know --  _ opening the builder's manual?! _

“I don't need a stupid manual, Hank! I can do it myself!”

Hank dragged a hand over his face in long-suffering tiredness. That's it -- he was  _ tired _ of this kid dinking around elbow deep in scrap metal because he was too goddamn stubborn to follow instructions. Like mother like son, he supposed.

“Trav--”

“I can do it, Dad! I've got it this time!” The kid gave him that pleading puppy look, the one that just fucking melted his resolve like butter. Made him try to soften his usual asshole nature by a few degrees. Wait, did Travis just call him  _ Dad? _

“Fuck this. You do what you gotta do bud, but I swear if you break a single  _ bolt _ \--”

“I won't!”

“--I ain't buying another damn gadget. This is the last shot, got it?”

Travis’ goofy grin was all the reward he'd ever need. “Got it!”

As he went back to tinkering, Hank just swivelled back to his desk with a muttered curse. “Fucking twelve year olds and their fucking gadgets and their mommas letting them do shit.”

  
  
  
  


_ Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-- _

“Jesus!” Hank nearly stumbled over his own feet, startled. Sumo ran through the kitchen wildly before barking at the front door. His near miss had Hank splashing boiling water onto his bare foot. “ _ HOLY SHIT _ that's hot!”

While trying to nurse is burned foot  _ and _ drain the noodles, he shot a glare at his snickering stepson.

“Can it, ya greasy pimple.” The doorbell was still going and going and going.  _ Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-- _

“TRAVIS, OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He faintly heard shuffling papers and little footsteps on the carpet before the front door swung open.

“CONNOR!”

“ _ Oof!" _

“Connor!?” Damn kid hadn't dropped by in six months, hadn't called in two. Made his throat feel like he'd knocked back two fingers of the cheap stuff. “You have a keycode, numbnuts, why the hell are you fingering my doorbell like that!?”

“Because he's holding my groceries and I have no idea what my code is yet.”

Pure, passionate warmth started spreading through Hank’s body like a hot coffee in December at the sound of her voice. He hurries to mix the sauce and noodles, checking on the meatballs baking in the oven.

“What the hell, Travis! Your mother comes home from a hard day of work and you choose Connor over me?” Several pairs of footsteps patter on the floor as Barb and Connor put down their bags.

“I see you all the time Mom, but Connor's been gone a whole  _ year! _ ”

“I missed you too, Travis.” Connor was probably buried under a pile of boy and dog right now. His voice was muffled. “And you too, Sumo.”

“Trav, you done with your homework yet?”

“Uhhh…”

Hank could hear Barb rolling her eyes as she made her way to the bedroom. “Hurry and get it done, I wanna see that secret  _ thingie _ you've been hoarding in your room all week.” He snorted. Little did she know Travis had been tinkering on that fucking thing for weeks at the precinct without her knowledge. She'd get a kick outta  _ that _ once she found out.

“Well, dinner’s almost ready. Maybe we should just eat and then I'll… finish… oh all right.”

Hank glanced back at Travis, making sure he was following directions. Yep, good. Tablet? Check. Worksheets? Check. Humongous Saint Bernard snuffling in his lap? Check. Android big brother…?

“Boo.”

They embraced warmly, Hank’s hands cradling his son's hair. Two fucking months of radio silence and now he's back.  _ God _ .

“Hey. Whatcha been up to? How's Grand Rapids been treating ya?”

Connor began grabbing groceries and putting them away. “I got that job down in Chicago, training androids similar in function to myself in working with human partners.” Connor grinned that goofy grin. “I'm moving.”

Hank blinked. Ah, Jesus. Barb wasn't gonna like that.

  
  
  
  


Arms snaked around his waist. “Hey babe.”

Hank turned in place to return the favor. “Hey, babe.”

Barbara kissed him lazily. “Whatcha cookin’ there?”

“Some pasta. Got some salad here, too.”

“Breadsticks?” She nosed around his neck, planting some kisses along his jaw.

He played with the curls at the nape of her neck, his throat going a bit dry. “Y-yeah.”

“Yummy.”

They stayed like that for a while, just gazing at each other, holding each other in their fancy new kitchen in their fancy new house, just enjoying the fact that they were a family.

  
  
  
  


“...what?”

Connor looked so genuinely happy that Barb couldn't seem to generate a properly  _ angry mom _ face. He was her son too though, so Hank refrained from jumping in too soon.

“Chicago is following in Detroit's lead, fully integrating android cops, detectives, and investigators into the force. Markus has been itching for this to happen ever since Fowler petitioned the board on my behalf. Mom,” Connor reached across the table to take her hands. “This is my chance to truly--”

“Moving. To Chicago.” She stared at Connor in disbelief. “By yourself.”

His “oldest” just puffed his cheeks out. They were tinting blue. “Well… not  _ alone _ …”

Huh? Red flags went up in Hank’s mind.

He interjected right here. “What do you mean, not alone? Theresa going with you?” Theresa was the best option to watch over their clueless son. She was the daughter neither he nor Barb ever had and a great sister to Travis. This could be good. This might ease his wifey’s mind about one of her babies living alone.

Connor flushed even more. “Uh, no. No, I--” he took a deep simulated breath. “While I was in Grand Rapids… I met someone.”

Silence.

Barb blinked. Hank blinked. Travis coughed.  _ Fuck _ , though Hank,  _ she put down her fork. You're in for it now, Connor. _

Barb’s eyes never wavered, searching the android’s face. “ _ Met _ met someone?”

Connor smiled shyly, eyes dropping to his cup of blue android juice. “ _ Met _ met someone.”

Hank couldn't help it. He  _ had _ to smile. He had to, who  _ wouldn't _ grin like an idiot at that big fucking smile on his son’s face!? He felt so happy, almost giddy, and… and…

Protective.

“I need a first and last name, date of birth or manufacture, criminal record, and model number if applicable. What do they do for a living? Where are they from--”

“Are they or have they ever been involved in illegal activities of any sort--”

“When are we gonna meet them? How did you two meet? What's their name?”

“You already asked that, Hank.”

“What's their name, Connor?”

While he and Barb interrogated their adorably confused robot son, Travis managed to slip away from the table. Hank noticed but stuck to his current mission.

Connor looked from parent to parent, waving his hands helplessly.

“Uh, wait wait wait. Hold on!” However, Hank refused to let up.

“Is that why you haven't kept in touch in  _ two fucking months? _ Someone walks into your life and you forgot you have a little brother here waiting for you to call? Forgot your mom and sister are wondering how you're doing?”

Barb looked startled. “Hank? What the fuck? What are you talking about?”

Connor looked like a deer in headlights but  _ goddamn it _ . He was feeling a tiny bit protective and a whole lot jealous. Connor was his  _ son _ for Christ's sake! His son who was getting a job in another state, making plans to live with someone he's  _ met _ met and possibly  _ loves _ and he didn't....

He just felt like he was about to lose his boy.

“Hank! What in the fuck!?”

He'd spoken all that out loud.

“H-Hank. I…” Connor seemed at a loss for words. He even seemed… frightened. And angry. “I knew I shouldn't have said anything.” And he was gone, slamming his bedroom door hard enough to rattle the windows.

“Connor James!” No reply. “Connor James Anderson!” Nothing.

  
  
  
  


“You fucked up.” Barb was undressing in the most pissed off manner possible, ripping her sweatpants off and pitching them at his face. “What the hell, Hank? What happened back there? One second your were just asking him about his fiancée, and then you're ripping into him!” She yanked the sheets back, but didn't lay down next to him.

“Don't act like I wasn't right.” He pulled the sweats off his face and tossed them to the floor. “Don't act like you didn't wonder and worry whether he was alright, wonder what the fuck he was doing those two months, wonder why he always had some stupid excuse not to come home.”

“I  _ did _ . I  _ did _ fuckin’ wonder that shit, so I was fuckin’ happy when he showed up at work today out of nowhere talkin’ bout ‘ _ Mommy I'm home! Let's go shopping like we used to all the time! _ ” She refused to plop down like she usually does, and Hank knows he's in some shit again.

“I was fuckin’ worried like  _ any mom _ would be but I also know that he's basically a grown ass man who is capable of being on his own!” She stomped to the sweats and grabbed them, throwing them in the most violent manner he'd ever seen into a hamper. “He did it for six months after the revolution, and again when we rented out the old house, and then again for the past year!”

“I  _ know _ what my son can do! I  _ know _ he can be on his own! You're the one who always  _ freaks out _ anytime he's out of the house!” He didn't bother with sitting up. “But  _ excuuuuuse _ me--”

“And the  _ tea _ is,” she interrupted, jabbing a finger at him, “ _ you can't stand Connor already being a grown up! _ You want him to be a little boy like Cole, hanging onto you for everything but he's  _ not Cole! _ ”

“Please excuse me for maybe being somewhat protective of my  _ only son!” _

_ “HE'S NOT YOUR ONLY SON ANYMORE!” _

  
  
  


 

Fuck. Oh fuck oh shit. Barb was crying now, rushing back to the hamper to grab her sweats and her purse and -- packing a bag?

That made him leap off the bed and block her way. “Wait. Please,” he pleaded, voice cracking. “Jesus Barbara, please.”

And by some miracle, some fucking miracle sent from God himself, she did. She paused at the brokeness in his voice or the way he got on his creaky old knees before her.

“Ah Christ. You must really love me. I didn't think you'd actually wait.”

His wife wouldn't look at him, instead focused on something above him.

“I-I didn't mean to get up in your face. Just… this is new territory. For me.”

She exhaled shakily. “Me too.”

Hank went on, “This whole ‘family’ thing is getting mixed up with the ‘I have an adult child who was never really a child to begin with’ thing and the ‘my firstborn died a long time ago and I'm still not over it’ thing. I keep fucking things up.”

Brown eyes settled on him heavily. “Having a family  _ at all _ is new to me, Hank. No dad, barely a mom, and he-who-shall-not-be-named. You, Travis, Theresa, and Connor are it. This is my life,” she waved her arms around, indicating their home. “And believe it or not, every moment is pretty great.

There was a  _ but _ coming up. A really huge  _ but _ .

“But Hank, you gotta let him go. I know he's your son but… he's not gone forever.” She wasn't just referencing Connor. “There is another little boy counting on you to be his father, and I need you to show him how to be a man. Show him all the cool things I have no idea about” she kneeled too, right in front of him and they hugged on the floor. He blankly noticed this was the longest she'd ever gone without uttering a single cussword.

“I love you, Barb."

“I love you too, ya Anglo asshole.”

“Gonna stay?”

“Didn't marry you just to walk out everytime we fight.” She whispered, wiping her eyes. “One time around was enough for me.”

Hank took her purse gently, placing it on the dresser along with her half full backpack of clothing. “Scared the shit outta me, babe.”

She didn't reply right away. Thinking before she spoke. What a cool lady.

She returned to her side of the bed, and Hank followed, climbing under the sheets and settling in.

“I'm still mad at you.”

“I'll bet.”

“So go to the couch.”

“What!?"

She didn't smile. “You heard me.”

  
  
  
  


The next morning was shit. Barb didn't engage in their usual morning sex routine, effectively proving him wrong and Gavin correct. She just shoved him off of her and slammed the bathroom door. Hank may have been pissed, but once the  _ obvious _ loud moans coming from the shower hit his ears, he was banging on the door.

“Barb! Quit that shit and let me in!”

“FUCK!”

“Goddamn it!” He needed to either convince her to let him shower with her or just sit down right here and start yankin’ his weiner.

Option one was probably a no-go. She'd locked the door  _ and _ turned up some Nick Jonas song from twenty years ago.

So like the pathetic fuck he was, he sat his naked ass down on the carpet and started to yank.

  
  
  
  


In the kitchen, Travis was eating cereal by himself. Hank watched him, yet to be discovered from his spot around the corner.

The boy was crying into his bowl. Sumo just whined, laying under Trav’s chair with his head down, though his large eyes swivelled toward him as soon as he'd peeked.

“Trav?” a soft voice asked from behind him.

Connor didn't hesitate when he spotted Hank. In fact, he barely gave him a passing look before settling in beside his step-brother.

“Trav?” he asked again.

“Go away.”

“Travis, I--”

“The bus is here. Bye Connor. Bye Sumo.” Putting away his empty bowl and packing his backpack, he barreled past both adults on his way out.

Hank didn't get a goodbye.

  
  
  
  


“Eric.”

“Huh?”

Connor exhaled through his nose. “Eric Jeremiah Resendiz, release date January twelfth of twenty thirty-six, model HR400. Five foot eleven inches, hazel eyes, golden brown hair, medium build and skin tone, and  _ zero _ criminal record whatsoever.” He wouldn't meet Hank’s eyes. “Formerly a sex android -- residing in Pennsylvania at a nightclub called  _ Eclipse _ \-- turned deviant in September of twenty thirty-eight. He was been job hopping since, learning new skills wherever he can in order to get by.”

Hank was well and truly speechless. Not even a half-assed snarky remark. Connor must've took this as a sign to go on because he continued.

“We met when I first arrived in Grand Rapids and attended a concert during Celebration on the Grand. We happened to be wearing the same tee-shirt. The one you bought me eight years ago.”

Hank knew the one. It'd been the first one Connor picked out during their first official “shopping trip” in January of thirty-nine. Pink, with nothing but  _ Made in Detroit _ across the front in gold foil letters.

“We spent the rest of the weekend sharing my hotel room, until we both found housing and went our separate ways.” Connor thought for a moment. “I always wondered how he was doing. It seemed Eric was something of a subroutine running in the background of my mind for a few months. And then…”

“And then?

“And then we met again at another concert. The same band was on tour now, having garnered great popularity in the months since Celebration on the Grand. We… we were once again matching shirts.”

_ My God _ , thought Hank.  _ His life's some sort of romantic teenage girl novel. _

“We decided to meet again at an android-friendly diner in the same area as the old warehouse the concert was held. The rest is history.”

Now, Hank only had one question. “Where's the ring?”

Connor flushed indigo so rapidly, Hank half rose out of his seat in alarm.

“Er, he's the one wearing it.”

“Oh. Well.”

“Yes.” Connor was smiling now. Finally. “I proposed by learning to play the electric guitar just so I could perform his favorite song. It's an old love song, of course;  _ Flashbax _ covered it in their early 2000’s alternative rock style during the concert. It is called  _ Can't Take My Eyes Off You _ by Frankie Valli. Eric likes the riff at the end very much, and may have swooned once or twice while I played.”

Hank could not believe his ears. Connor, king of awkward conversation attempts, botched flirting, and complete introvert…

Was a fucking  _ stud. _

  
  
  
  


_ “Contraband: Accessories and Apparel! How may I help you?” _

“Yeah, I'm looking for a hot babe named Barb Anderson.”

_ “Hot babe, you say? Haven't seen her, could you describe her to me?” _

“Oh you know. A tall, dark beauty. She's pretty, ah,  _ thick _ . If you catch my meaning.”

_ “She sounds sexy.” _

“She sure is.”

There was silence on her end of the line for a moment. Hank felt his heart slam right into his esophagus. Time to fuck with her, now.

“She's also about, uh, fifty years ol--”

_ “Fifty!? What do you mean, fifty!? I'm forty-eight you Anglo asshole!” _

She proceeded to cuss him out in Spanish.

“Barb. Barb! Listen to me.”

_ “Bet! Hiding over there on the other end of a satellite signal, talkin’ ‘bout  _ ‘she's fifty years old’ _ when you're fucking sixty-one! I'll show you fifty when I smack that shiteating grin you're wearing right off ya goddamn face!” _

Hank just listened to her continue to cuss him out over the phone. Hopefully there weren't any customers on hold right now; this may take a while.

“Ah, Barbara. Never change.”

  
  
  
  


The afternoon was a bit better than his morning. For one, he didn't have to deal with Reed the Asshole because Reed the Asshole was sick. However,  _ Hank _ was now being assigned another android shadow who would be learning how detective work rolled. Because Reed the Asshole was sick.

“Well kid, be glad you got me instead of Detective Reed. You got a name?”

Flossy blonde hair swished as she spun to face him. She'd been gazing at her new surroundings.

“Er, yes! I'm Francine. Francine Wells. Pleasure to work with you, Lieutenant Anderson! I've heard so much about you ever since you and Connor woke us up at the CyberLife headquarters and this has been my  _ dream _ , I worked so hard to get here and I guess it really paid off because I'm right here in front of you and we're about to go and solve a whole case together!” It freaked him out how long androids could talk before taking a simulated breath. “Here I am!”

If the corner of his mouth turned up a bit at her enthusiasm, well, she was adorable.

“That's right, kid. Here you are.”

  
  
  
  


His evening was pretty great. He picked up Travis from school, brought him back to the precinct, and they had a long heart to heart on the way. They'd be staying a bit late to help Francine out with setting up her new desk. She'd take Connor's old place, directly across from Hank. At first, that fact had stung like a bitch, solidifying reality that his boy was truly moving on, but as he watched her ooh and aw over Travis’ scrap metal masterpiece, he couldn't help but warm up to her. She was a sweet girl.

“Hey Hanky Panky.”

“Ah Jesus, stop with that Hanky Panky crap.”

Theresa seated herself on his desk. “Just swung by to say hey real quick and pay the rent, then I'm heading over to the house for dinner. Barbie texted me asking for help with the dumplings.”

“Alright, I see. Can't swing by except to pay me my money. I see how it is.”

“Oh please, you're fucking with me. But while we're on the subject, y'all wanna come see how the kitchen’s going in the old house? I've put in those swanky tiles y'all wanted, plus that orange backsplash.” The young woman gazed at his stepson and new partner in crime. “She's lookin’ like a real home now.”

Hank considered her offer. “Let me talk to the missus first. Been roughing it lately, the two of us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That sucks.”

He threw up his hands. “It's life, Theresa. Shit happens. We're rolling with it.”

“What kinda shit?”

He turned to her, giving her a narrow-eyed look. “He ain't told you yet?”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Hey man, he's been pretty tight lipped the past couple months, or haven't you noticed?”

A groan escaped his throat like a burp. “I noticed. He says he's moving to Chicago in a couple more months. Quit that gig at CyberLife there in Grand Rapids so he could train baby androids.”

“Train them to do what?” she asked.

“Be real cops. Work in harmony with humans. Even hold higher positions on the force.”

“Oh,” she breathed. Hank detected admiration in her voice. “That's pretty wicked.”

They sat and watched Francine scroll through photos on her datapad, showing Travis images of her android husband and their android child. To a kid as young as him, this all seemed normal. Androids slowly being accepted by society, mixed android-human families, blue blood and red blood flowing together in unison. It was his world. It was a beautiful world.

“You know what?”

“Huh.”

Hank smiled proudly. “He  _ is _ pretty fucking wicked, ain't he?”

  
  
  
  


Travis opened the cardboard box carefully. “Okay. So she's kinda shy, so give her some space. Here we go.”

They all waited in anticipation to see what doohickey Travis had come up with this time. Last time it was rocket shoes, and the time before was a revamped Google Glass equipped with tiny heat lasers. The kid sure had some talent, that's for sure.

A familiar black and white robo dog wobbled out. An old Sony Aibo.

“She's sentient. Hey girl! Hey puppy!”

“Say that again but in English, please.”

“She's like me. A machine, but capable of real emotion. Sentient.”

“...you're some kind of boy genius, Travis.”

“She's wonderful, baby!”

  
  
  
  


“Are you fuckin’ for real?”

“Dead serious.”

His wife squealed in delight. “Ahhhhhh, oh my goodness oh my goodness  _ oh my goodness! _ I'm a bit thrown back by the sudden offer to meet his  _ fiancée _ , who we have never heard about or met. But Connor has always known what he wants out of life. He's…”

“He's?”

“He's moving on to greater things than being Mister Born-and-raised-in-Detroit Android Cop Boy.” She flipped her hair and Hank felt something twitch in his shorts. “He's starting new chapter, just like we did.”

“So you're okay with it now?”

Barb heaved a sigh. “I'm working on it. I'm happy for him but I'm sad he's leaving but GOD I'M SO HAPPY!”

And then she did something Hank had never seen her do in the nine years they've known each other.

She did a happy dance. Right. There. On his carpet. As if they were in middle school and her best friend had just been asked out by a baby-faced jock.

“What the hell is that?”

“It's my happy dance!”

He rubbed his face. Jesus Christ, his woman was a wacko.

“You look like an idiot.”

“You're an idiot,” was her clever retort.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me? Fuck  _ me _ !? You asshole! Get the fuck outta here!” Barb snatched a pillow and started smacking him viciously everywhere she could reach.

“Fuck no.”

“Shoo you,” Smack. “Blue eyed,” Smack. “Motherfucking,” Smack. “Saggy balled,” Smack. “Old man!  _ Don't cuss at me! _ ”

Goddamn it, Hank really wished she wasn't so hot when she was pissing mad. He got the best head when she was about to shit herself like this. A sly grin slid across his face. He knew he looked like a moron with a deathwish but  _ holy shit. _

“Bet.”

She stared at him. “ _ Hank. _ ”

“ _ Barb. _ ”

They stared at each other for a minute. Hank really wanted to rile her up more. But how to do that and still get some action tonight? Hmm…

“Wanna have sex?”

“No! You're being a dick!”

“Ride mine and we'll call it even.”

“That’s-- I-- that doesn't even make sense!”

“I'm getting harder the more you yell at me.”

There it was. That glitter in her dark eyes which quickly turned into a lusty gleam. She glanced at his crotch and the lust in her eyes intensified. He went for the throat.

“I guess I'll go crank it to a busty redhead on my phone in the shower, then, since you're not in the mood. Toodles!”

She slapped him. Hard. And then she was on him like the sex-crazed woman he knew her to be.

  
  
  
  


His night was  _ stellar. _

  
  
  
  


Connor sprung it on his siblings four days after the Incident. “I'd like to have the four of you over for a week or two. There's so much to see and enjoy in Grand Rapids. It could be a vacation.”

Travis and Theresa jumped on the bandwagon right away. Loudly. Barb began planning where they would visit and where they'd stay (Connor's tiny ass apartment could never fit four extra people  _ and _ Sumo.) And Hank? He looked into his son's eyes and said,

“Hell to-the-fucking yeah!”

  
  
  
  


Eric was a charming guy. He kept finding every reason to hold Connor's hand, or fix his perfect hair, or straighten his clothes. And while Connor's personal style had developed into something vaguely “Brendon Urie circa 2016”, Eric was distinctly “Enrique Iglesias at any point in his career.”

Despite this, it was quickly established that Eric was was the twink out of the the pair, while Connor was the twunk. They were quite a normal couple. They joked, laughed, fought, yelled -- an awkward situation to watch as guests -- and most of all: they loved each other. Clearly.

Eric made sure Connor came home at a reasonable time from the CyberLife building every evening. Connor made sure Eric didn't strangle his customers at the android repair shop he owned. They were a single unit, functioning like a well oiled machine.

Pardon the language.

The date of their wedding was chosen during their two-week vacation. January thirtieth, twenty forty-seven. About seven months from now. Eric had wanted a Christmas wedding, but Connor has stressed the importance of leaving that holiday alone, to be celebrated as a family without any other events to cover it up.

Eric had pouted for a bit, but judging by the slamming of a headboard later that night, he'd forgiven Connor quite easily anyway.

  
  
  


 

“Eric?” Travis asked.

“Whassup little man?”

The duo was sitting in the tiny living room playing the newest VR horror game called  _ Fight or Flight III _ . It was pretty damn hilarious to watch them lounge casually wearing those goggles, and then suddenly clam up at each jumpscare.

“I gotta talk to you. Man to man.”

“Lay it on me, bud. Jesus!” He jumped at what must've been a pretty bad scare.

“I got ‘im. Doot doot doot doot doot. Die muthafuckahs. So anyways, I can see you really love my brother Connor and y'all are about to get married.”

“YEAH GET THAT TWO TON FUCKER!”

“KA-POW!”

“So yeah, I love him with all my being. I'm pretty psyched to be part of your family too, bud. You guys keep it pretty real.”

“Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Just… you have to treat Connor well. Please. He's got issues. He needs you… crap, I think I saw one run into the mines.”

“Here, take some pills. Your mental health is low. You take the mines, I'll secure the surface, and then we'll both--”

“AH!”

“BY THE BLOOD OF RA9--”

“MY MENTAL HEALTH METER IS ALMOST DONE NOW!”

“HERE, TAKE THE FREAKING PILLS DAMNIT!”

“Fight or flight!?”

“Aw shit!”

“I'm running! Seeya bitch!”

“NO! YOU LEFT ME WITH FIGHT!? BUT YOU'RE THE ONE HOLDING ALL THE AMMO!”

“Tooooodles!”

Hank snorted into his coffee.

  
  
  
  


They went back home after two weeks in Grand Rapids. They actually did manage to squeeze everybody into the tiny apartment, but it cost Hank and Barb any sexy times because they shared the guest room with Travis.

Thus, when they finally arrived home, Hank may have jumped his wife. Not that she was complaining.

  
  
  
  


Theresa went back to the old house to finish remodeling and helped sell it, then moved to Grand Rapids to manufacture furniture. Connor and Eric got married (they were Connor and Eric  _ Anderson _ , not Connor and Eric  _ Resendiz _ ) and started their new life together in Chicago. Travis grew up and became part of the small company Horizons that worked closely with CyberLife to enhance android’s lives.

And the Anderson house was full of happy Andersons every Christmas.


End file.
